


Find

by andrean182



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU obviously, Drugs, Feels, M/M, Optimus being daddy, Rodimus being himself, Roller is Tarn AU, Tarn not being himself, Ultra Magnus not being himself, deadly voice, drinking oneself out of misery, drunk tarn lol, how cruel my brain is, nnh, poor tarn after Megs gone, the DJD is no more ;_;
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrean182/pseuds/andrean182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarn tries to move on from his past life. But the only way for him is to remember the past.<br/>AU where the DJD didn't go meet Deathsaurus and his crew, instead they're lost and disengaged (and there's ex-DJD). Also a Roller-is-Tarn AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Night in a Bar

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea whilst in my class .-. it was originally a shameless and plotless pornz. But my brain suddenly expands it :v  
> Let's just see where is this going to.  
> -EDIT  
> This story will leave the original plot I had in mind... (but there was no plot lol)  
> It'd be Optimus x Roller instead of original Magnus x Tarn, but don't worry there will be still those two.  
> This story set in long after the events in IDW Transformers vol 2, long enough that the DJD, if they don't meet Deathsaurus and his crew, be lost and disengaged because they have nothing to do and Megs declare that Decepticonism is over.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultra Magnus takes a day-off, to find Tarn in a bar.

He shouldn’t have gone to Monacus. Curse Rodimus and his ideas. He should’ve stayed on-board, doing his reports.

He had no clues about what had Rodimus said about ‘taking a day-off’. He was standing in front of a street sign, in a rather quiet road. A few creatures walked by him, unbeknownst of him. It has been awhile since he let go of his title.

He wandered to a more crowded area of the city. There were few Cybertronians, but none of them gave him looks, and so did he. He stopped his pedes in front of a bar, and he entered. Maybe a drink or more would help.

But then his steps stopped again. Someone he recognised was standing in the stool.

He knew that tank tire shoulders anywhere.

What was Tarn doing here?

Best to avoid him.

He was about to go back and find someplace else to drink when…

“Ultra Magnus…”

He wasn’t that afraid of Tarn, or the DJD; he thought he’d still be able to defend himself were they attack him. But still, that voice send tremors down his back. Which Autobot who wasn’t afraid of the DJD? A hand suddenly placed itself on his right shoulder. He couldn’t find himself to move. He didn’t dare look back, to his optiques to meet those red ones.

But he tried himself to turn his frame. “Can I help you?” He tried to sounded even…

“Can we find a table to talk?”

Tarn was… overcharged? Why would he overcharge himself? Was it for pleasure?

Nonetheless, he followed Tarn inside and sat in a chair, facing Tarn. Well… this was awkward…

“Two more, please.” Tarn said to the waiter, then slumped his head to his hands in the table.

Then nothing happened.

Ultra tried to avert his gaze from a slumped Tarn, to find something else to look at. A creature in far corner of the bar suddenly caught his interest. It—he or she or whatever—was doing something with his four hands, maybe was praying or something. He didn’t know, but it was interesting to look at.

“What have you Autobots done to Lord Megatron?” Tarn suddenly said, looking up at him with dim optiques.

Did Tarn overcharge himself out of misery?

“Excuse me?”

“He would’ven’t done that if it wasn’t because someone else.”

Oh, that.

“None of us has done anything to him. He did it because of his free will.”

Tarn opened his mask and put it on the table. “Why are you so tense?”

Wow, Ultra thought, it was rare for anyone to see the face of the DJD leader. Then again, he was overly overcharged from the tone he used. He wondered how much he had taken. “Because… you are interrogating me inside a bar right now?”

“I’m not interrogating you.” Tarn said, straightened himself. “I’m just asking you.”

Ultra leant back in his chair, trying to looked as not afraid. And to calm himself, actually. But still had his usual expression. “Where are the others?”

“Who others?”

“The other DJD members. Where are they? I am just curious.”

The waiter came and put two drinks— one not too strong, he could know by the colour, and one… who know Tarn ordered a strong one? —on their table. Tarn took one and drank a few gulps from it. “What’s a DJD? Never heard of it.” he said casually.

It struck him. What had happened? Did Megatron’s betrayal really have this effect on the most fearsome Decepticon group off all time? Disintegrate them?

Ultra tried his best not to seem surprised. “It is your team to command. What had happened?”

“Was.” Tarn drank a few more gulps until the glass was nearly empty. “But, didn’t I have a bunch of morons to command to? Under the command of another moron?”

Ultra took his glass slowly, tried not to tremble, and sipped from it. “You didn’t.” Ultra caught sight of a few Decepticons behind Tarn, pointing at them and chatting around to themselves. Maybe they were surprised to see an Autobot, the former Duly Appointed Enforces of the Tyrest Accord, talking to Tarn, the leader of a group of five sadistic killers whose mission was to find and torture their kind who was out of the Decepticon way. “Where are they?”

“They’re out. Who knows where are they.” Tarn drank the rest of his glass. “One more, please.” He said to the waiter.

Ultra watched him. “I would strongly suggest that you cease your consumption of high grade.” Who was he? Cared about a Decepticon?

“Who are you to command me? I’m free now!”

“You are being unreasonable.” Ultra spoke, and regretted doing so. He straightened himself up in the chair.

“Do you think I don’t have reason?! I lost everything! My life, my pride, my lord, everything!” Tarn raised his voice, drawing some attention from some creatures across their table.

Silence passed.

“You’re overcharged.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“You should.” Ultra sipped from his glass. “It concerns your health.”

Tarn leaned. “No one shall command me! I don’t take any order except Lord Megatron’s, and he alone!”

Ultra sighed. They really were a very loyal soldiers of the Decepticon Cause. “You should start thinking forward, what you will do, instead of drinking yourself out of misery here.”

Silence passed again.

“Give me orders.”

Ultra was surprised. “Excuse me?”

“Are your audios not responding?” Tarn said. “Give me orders.”

“You just said that you won’t have yourself to take any order except Megatron’s.”

Tarn widened his optiques. “Give me orders so that I can have something to do. I trust you, respect you.”

“Why would you trust me?” Ultra said, leaning back to the chair to hide his sudden excitement. “Why would you even respect me?”

“Because,” Tarn’s optiques brightened and dimmed. “you are a reasonable mech.”

“What kind of order do you want?” he sipped slowly from his glass to hide his nervousness.

The waiter put a new glass in the table, then took the empty one. Tarn took gulps from that new glass. “Kind like, ‘get on all four and show me your aft!’, or ‘put that mouth of yours around my spike!’”

Ultra choked on his drink, fortunately managed not to spill any. “Pardon me?”

“Did you not hear me?” Tarn said.

“I did hear you.” Ultra stated. “You are overcharged and have some problems in lust management.”

Tarn finished his glass again. Ultra wondered again how many glass Tarn had had at this night, or how much high grade he had taken. Then Tarn’s fuel tank lurched, and he leant forward. He looked like he was going to throw up.

“Are you going to throw up?”

“Nooo… I’m fne.”

“No. You are not.” He should’ve let him be and leave him. “Do you rent a place here to rest?”

“Why would you care?”

And then Tarn choked, putting his hand around his mouth.

Ultra sighed, then stood up and held Tarn up, which Tarn, surprisingly, allowed himself to. Ultra’s superior size and strength also made him easy to hold him up.

“Let’s have you to the toilet.”

The entrance to the toilet had 3 doors with 3 symbols: one with a triangle, one with an upside-down triangle, and one with a square. Ultra chose the one with a triangle and put Tarn in one of the cubicles. He wasn’t in the mood to see a mech throwing up.

…except that Tarn took so long inside the cubicle.

Ultra opened the cubicle and saw Tarn slumped against the toilet. But the toiled was clean. It seemed Tarn had turned the water and cleaned it, but was too weak to move himself.

“Tarn?” No answer. “Are you done?” Still no answer. Ultra sighed. “Let’s have you rest.”

“Nooo…” Tarn said weakly, looking up with tired optiques, his once blazing red was now dimming light red. “I’m fine…”

“You are not. Where do you stay?” Ultra said whilst managing to hold Tarn up.

Tarn choked again. “A hotel just across hier. 107.”

Ultra led Tarn outside. He also took Tarn’s masque that had been left in their table. The hotel security had to check on them before allowed them to enter. He quickly headed for room 107, as Tarn said before. When they arrived, Ultra put Tarn down on the sofa (he had to grope Tarn’s frame to find the key, but he paid no mind to his interfacing panel heating), and headed back outside, only to be stopped by a voice calling his name. The room was big and large, with main room, storage room, and a separate bedroom. It was even larger than his room on the Lost Light.

“Ultra Magnus?”

He turned to find Tarn was staring at him with those ‘puppy eyes’ Verity had told him, the fact that this pair was red didn’t help either. “Yes?”

“Can you stay? For tonight?”

This could be a trap, he reminded himself, but Ultra found it hard to say no. “Do I have to?”

“Please?”

Ultra sighed. Maybe taking one more day-off won’t hurt anyone. Rodimus told him to take as many as he would to, anyway. “Okay.”

Tarn sighed and tried to stand, only to wobble on his way to the bedroom. Ultra took him quickly as he could right before Tarn fall onto the desk, and laid him on his back successfully on the berth.

He went out to turn off the lamps, then settled himself beside Tarn to sleep. The berth was large enough to accommodate them, which is fortunate.

He was only about to sleep when he felt a hand moved itself to his chest, then moved down to his interface panel.

Was Tarn taking advantage of him?


	2. A Step Wouldn't Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarn and Ultra Magnus have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noooo it turned to be a lot of fluff....  
> A hell lot of of fluffiness, awkwardness, and Tarn not being himself incoming  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> And I feel sorry for him ;_; after Megatron's defect, he must be confused, lost... oh my poor Tarn ;_;  
> .  
> .  
> Oh and a smiling Ultra Magnus. Quite a lot, actually.

The hand, fortunately, didn’t do anything more. Though it wasn’t comfortable. And the fact that Tarn was now hugging him and purred also wasn’t comfortable.

The morning light on Monacus—it wasn’t morning light; it was automated lamps turned on every 10 hours to imitate the sun, shined the room, waking Ultra Magnus.

He couldn’t have himself to move Tarn. But this was highly unprofessional, and unbelievable. He was sharing a berth with the leader of the DJD.

Ex-leader of the DJD? He didn’t know what happened with Tarn and his band of killer. Did Tarn really leave them? Or did they leave each other? But still, he was sharing a berth with a Decepticon! And not just an ordinary Decepticon! It was worse than sharing a berth with an Autobot fugitive! Fortunately, he only drank a little last night, so that his head wasn’t dizzy, and he could think less confusedly. But not clearly.

What happened last night? They… didn’t do anything, did they?

Looking down, Ultra didn’t find any evidence that they had done anything. He slowly eased Tarn’s arm off him, only to be stopped when he was a pair of red optiques was staring at him.

Tarn had woken up. He removed his arm off Ultra.

“ _What are you doing in my berth?_ ”

That voice made his frame still and a burning pain in his spark. His spark felt like it was rotating very fast in its casing. He couldn’t move; he grimaced as he saw Tarn moved himself off the berth.

“ _Explain yourself_.”

For a mech that was surprised, well, Tarn took himself very calmly, but neither did his voice. Ultra tried himself to answer.

“You… asked me t-to stay here… last night.”

“ _I did not_.”

“Can you… nnh… turn off your v-voice fr a sec?”

Tarn was visibly startled; he wasn’t used to someone to ask him to just turn off his voice, let alone dare to even ask him. He was silent. This Autobot, Ultra Magnus, had to be afraid of him, or terrified, or angry. But he wasn’t, he wasn’t afraid of him; at least that was what he saw. Didn’t he know whom he was asking to?

Oh yes, he was no longer the fearsome leader of the famous Decepticon Justice Division.

He had to get used to it.

He kept standing beside the berth and gave room for Ultra Magnus to sit. He had the urge just to strap this mech to the berth and torture him… but a part of him said no.

“You were drunk last night… I had to bring you here…” Ultra started. “We met in that bar. You were heavily drunk and start asking me questions.” Ultra Magnus explained, holding his chest in pain.

Tarn opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He let Ultra continue.

“Then you had to throw up, you did, and I had you back to here.”

“Then _why_ did you sleep in my berth?” he raised an optical ridge in irritation.

“Like I said, you asked me.”

Tarn was silent. If he was really the one who invited the ex-Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, he had to take it to himself. Tarn stood still, frozen stiff, unable to do anything than to stare at those blue optiques. He was the master of torturer yet a simple thing like this made him felt like Megatron was laughing at him.

And he remembered one thing.

“Did… we interface?”

“We didn’t, even though you kept your hand above my interface panel.” Ultra answered. “How goes yourself?” Ultra Magnus asked him, despite the fact that he was still holding him chest.

Tarn grimaced visibly. He wasn’t used to be being asked ‘how goes yourself?’ by anyone other than his team or Lord Megatron. Well, yes, his head was still a bit dizzy, his frame and tank ached, and most of his joints were in need of relaxation, but there wouldn’t be a hole in the world for him to say that to an enemy. Ex-enemy, not friend, not acquaintance. Not someone he had ever known. It took him his every willpower of control to answer “I’m fine.”

“It’s… good then.”

Tarn felt his mouth fell. He gaped at the sight before him, Ultra Magnus smiled?! There was almost no mech had ever do that to him, excluding smirks, which his team exchanged quite often. And then there were Kaon’s smiles… He had known Ultra Magnus as a mech without fun. Even in the Autobot ranks, some Autobots he met told him that Ultra Magnus was a mech for one to be avoided, to be feared, for his lack of fun and emotion. He saw this mech before, from distance and videos, that they were true. He wasn’t one with much emotion. How could he lose his control by just a sight before him?

And the same thing happened to Ultra. Seeing Tarn at loss of words before him was also new. Maybe be hadn’t recognise the lack of masque? He then set his lipplates back in a straight line.

And it was the time when Tarn noticed the lack of masque. He tried to regain his composure (and failed miserably) and asked. “Where had you removed my masque?”

“It’s on the table. You opened it last night.”

“Oh.” It was all Tarn could answer. He saw his masque on the table beside the bed. If he was no longer the famous Decepticon killing machine, he had to learn the way those mechs live. Treating a guest included. Not one where one threatened guests to do as they wish. “Energon?”

“Please.” Ultra answered shortly, going off berth and standing across Tarn. His taller height didn’t intimidate Tarn. But he was stretching up and _did_ a good job in showing raw power in his frame, and Tarn tried hard not to stare. He could be stronger than Lord Megatron.

Tarn didn’t take the masque. Instead, he nodded and went to the main room whilst Ultra was making the berth.

* * *

It was funny how they went. One minute Tarn was trying to kill Ultra Magnus, the next he was giving him energon. And this was extremely awkward.

They both focused on the TV, showing mainly just games and gambling, with their own cube of energon. Was Tarn staying in here? Ultra asked himself. But he couldn’t, this was just a hotel, not a permanent habitation. The sofa was warm, though. And it was big enough for them to sit comfortably with enough space between them.

The room was large with an equally large window. Also there was a few datapads on the table. He wondered if Tarn read them.

“So, how goes Lord Megatron?” Tarn asked him suddenly, trying to be amiable, and failed by the tone of his voice.

“Him?” Ultra mused, ignoring the tone. It would be obvious that Tarn asked about him first. “He goes well. Last time I met him was when he gave me reports.”

Silence passed. Thicker than Rodimus’ boredom.

“What will you do?”

Tarn raised an optical ridge. “Pardon?”

“Now that the DJD, as you spoke to me, is no longer, what will you do?” Ultra Magnus looked to him, meeting his optiques to his.

Tarn lowered his head. “I don’t know as yet.” Maybe a talk would be nice. It was a thing he missed doing before the war. Back then, after he lost his memories, he rescued by Megatron. And not long after, he laid his loyalty only to Him. Then he met Kaon and they talked like a friend should be. After the DJD was formed, he and Kaon rarely speak privately again, mostly just about mission, himself being too focused to duty, etc. Sometimes, he missed his old life. And he hoped that he could have his old memories back.

“About the DJD, did you leave them, or did they go away?”

“We went our separate ways.” Tarn answered. “After Kaon gave me that datapad…” he looked at his hands. “I felt my world crumbled apart. Everything was lost.” He played his hands.

For once, Ultra thought, he felt sorry for the Decepticon. He knew that Megatron’s defect took away the hopes of the Decepticons. Mainly the main player ones like Tarn and the DJD. “Did you blame him?”

Tarn took a sip. “I don’t know. On one side I’m angry at him, for leaving us all in the dust…”

Ultra waited for Tarn to continue. Fortunately their EM fields weren’t touching each other.

“…on the other side, I know that this is his choice. For me to protest against it, it means I do not respect his choice. That I’m against his will. He tried himself so hard… maybe this was the time to stop. Afterall, peace has been brought back to Cybertron, hasn’t it?”

“It has.” Ultra said, feeling uncomfortable. Rung once told him to be more social, but, his first ‘friend’ was the leader of the DJD—ex-leader of the DJD? What even is the definition of friends? If a ‘friend’ means a mech one often see and talk privately to, it should be Megatron… wait, it was even worse. His two friends was a very high-ranking ex-Decepticon officer? (He never thought Rodimus as his friend, he was his senior officer. Mainly because Rodimus could not distinguish a formal letter and an informal one.)

“If Lord Megatron’s dreams are fulfilled, then I am happy with it.” He said with a sad tone in his voice.

“You are not, Tarn.” He said that name like he was familiar saying it. “Don’t be happy for someone’s dream. Be happy with your own.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to do anymore.” Tarn said, looking up and showing his bared faceplate. It was the first time Ultra saw that face clearly, at the previous night it was unclear and dark. His optiques were dim red. He no longer showed a determined, fearsome face like before. He had a scar across his left optique, maybe from a battle at one time. “I felt like my purpose on life has ended, and I do not have any more to do.”

“You can’t say things like that.” Ultra answered him, ignoring a line his processor had formed, _hewashotPrimushewashot_. “There will always be new things to do. We never stop being ourselves. Just be yourself. Free yourself from your old life.”

Tarn looked down.

“I took those lines from Rung, anyway.”

He didn’t react. Ultra Magnus was reeealy bad at conversations.

“You can always go back to Cybertron and start a new life there.”

“I can’t.” Tarn replied, holding onto his cube. “If I go to Cybertron, I will freak up the communities. They have seen enough of what I capable of and I’m not sure they would accept me.

I’m not sure what to do anymore.”

Yeah, he was right; a talk was nice.

“Are you often being this expressive?”

Tarn looked up. “Pardon?”

Ultra Magnus tried to smile again, but this time was softer, amiable kind. “You looked so expressive without your masque.”

“Same to you.” Tarn sipped his energon, smiling sadly back to Ultra. “I have never thought the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord would be so talkative, let alone to his enemy.” He had to admit, having one smiling to him was nice. Like the burden of the world had been let go from his shoulders.

“Ex-Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord. I no longer am.” Ultra sipped his energon.

“What happened to your rank?” Tarn looked up to him.

“I let it go. It is time for a change. Now it’s Fortress Maximus.”

“Fortress Maximus? The prison warden? I heard he was tortured under Overlord for 3 years.”

“He was. Three years, two months, ten days. But as Rung said it, give him a responsibility, and he shall learn from it. He’s more under control now.”

“This is the first time I heard someone survived Overlord’s torture.”

“You have no idea how surprised I am when I see him the first time.” Ultra sipped his energon again. “I also did a mistake.” He sighed. “I should’ve taken Overlord myself before, so that he might not spend 3 years under his control.”

“What happened?” Tarn grew curious, sipping his energon.

Ultra looked away. “I… prefer not to talk about it.”

Silence passed. This time it was a calm silence only to be cut by the sound of the TV.

“You know,” Ultra started again, sipping his energon again. “we can be not enemy anymore. Seeing that the war had ent.”

“I don’t know.” Tarn replied, finishing his energon, looking at his hands. “I don’t know how to be. All I know is to hunt and torture.”

“You can start by trusting.” Ultra took his hands, as if he was calming Rodimus or Megatron. “Trust one you think you can trust.”

They both looked into each other’s optiques. “And how do I know that I can trust someone?”

“By trusting him. It is the best way. See that if he does not trust you back, you might have to let him go. Actually, the best way to move on is to let everything go. Don’t force yourself; letting go means that you have to let the time decide for you. Let the world decide for you. It might be hard, knowing that you aren’t one to be controlled and decided by. But eventually, you’ll learn to appreciate life.”

They locked their optiques on each other, seeming to understand each other’s pain. But, they suddenly let go of their hand, knowing that they were doing an intimate thing, and looked away.

“I guess I do be more like Rung, don’t I?”

“Pardon, but who is this Rung you’ve been talking about?”

They regained their composure. Ultra sipped his energon again. “He is the psychiatrist of the Lost Light, the ship that left Cybertron sometimes ago.”

“Oh yes, I know.”

“I talked to him, and he replied with things like those. And I guess I now know what they mean.”

Tarn smiled. “If—”

Ultra Magnus’ comm pinged. Rodimus. He must be wondering where he had gone. “Excuse me.” He said to Tarn and went to the kitchen.

The kitchen was simple. Only a few energon cubes laid and some cooking equipment he rarely use. But he had no time enjoying it as Rodimus asked him through the comm.

_“_ _Where have you been? No, where are you?!_ _”_

“I’m still on Monacus. I met… a friend.”

_“_ _When I said you can take as long as you want, I didn’t mean you—wait, a friend?_ _”_

“Yes. Didn’t I make myself clear?”

_“_ _No—it’s just—wow you have a friend?!_ _”_

Rodimus’ elation was clear through the comm. Ultra sighed. “Do you think I do not have social relationships?”

_“_ _No—I just don’t think you could have a friend…_ _”_

Ultra raised his optical ridge.

_“_ _…on Monacus._ _”_

“We met to each other by accident.”

_“_ _O… kay. So, Megs has been asking me where are you… so, where are you?_ _”_

“I just answered that question.”

 _“_ _Wow, grumpy_ _,_ _are you?_ _”_ Ultra could practically hear Rodimus smirking over the comm. “ _Can you go back to the ship now? Not now, but anytime you want to, but I don’t expect it to be so long._ _”_

“I think I’ll be there in a few hours.”

_“_ _You’re done with your day-off?_ _”_

“I might as well take another in another time.”

_“_ _Okay, safe journey, mate._ _”_

Then the comm ended.

Ultra sighed, then headed back to the main room.

Tarn hadn’t moved from where he sat, looking to his hands, thinking. In the table laid an empty cube, a near empty one—his, and an activated datapad.

It was a pity to see the former leader of the DJD like this. Confused. Lost. Didn’t know what to do. Just like him in his early days. He should’ve received rewards for what he had done, for his unquestionably loyalty. But… it was the past. He had to move on for now.

“I have to go back. Rodimus asked me.”

Tarn looked up. “Okay.” Even his face wasn’t as he was before. His optiques still were dim. “Can I ask for your help?” he stood up.

“Yes?” Wow, he forgot to realise that he was taller than Tarn, Tarn being as tall as Megatron.

Tarn took the datapad and gave it to Ultra. “Please give this to Megatron. I…” he looked away. “Tell him it’s from the former leader of the DJD.”

Ultra looked at it. A message. Maybe Tarn should really talk things out with Megatron. “You can come with me if you want to talk to him.”

“No… I…” Tarn sighed. “I’m not ready.”

“Can we meet again?”

Tarn looked up, startled. He thought no one wanted to see him, let alone meet him.

“If you stay here for a month or more, I might come back, as long as I completed my reports.”

“I…” maybe this was a step he could do. To go back to the society. To learn the ways the bots live. To have his life again. To claim the second chance the life had given him. “I’d appreciate that.”

Ultra nodded; he knew how Tarn felt right now. He needed guidance, orders. Like himself, Tarn was probably had a habit of following orders. He put a hand on Tarn’s shoulder. “You are a good bot. I know it.” Then Ultra Magnus went to the door and left him alone.

He was right; a talk would be nice.

Suddenly, a part of his past flashed before him, and he cringed and stumbled back on his feet, feeling his head spin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it? I was planning to exploit Tarn more and reveal his past (cruel) life :3


	3. What Passes Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultra Magnus tells Megatron about his encounter with Tarn. Optimus takes a day-off and reflects on how today goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yosh! It took me so long to update ._. but now I think I'll change the course of the story. I have other things in mind.

Ultra couldn't stop thinking about Tarn.

He was in his table, doing reports about his day-off. He had yet to give Tarn’s message to Megatron. He fought the urge to read it; it'd be impolite. He had more important things to do than mind the other’s business.

Megatron wasn't reachable as of now. He had to wait for a few hours to meet him; he was in the medbay for check-up. He wouldn’t dare bother Ratchet, he was busy, and he respected him and his job.

Maybe he would just put it in Megatron’s table for him to read.

As soon as his reports were completed, he got up and about to go to Megatron’s hab suite… only to find Rodimus storming into his room waving him a box of Primus knew what. “Mags! Look at what I’ve got you!”

“Rodimus, I have to do something. Can this wait until later?”

“Nu-uh.” Rodimus pushed Ultra Magnus back to his chair and stood behind his desk. He put the box in Ultra’s table. “Take it!”

He took the box and inspected it; there was nothing suspicious about it. It was just a small black box. “What does it contain?”

“It’s yours to find out later.” Rodimus said to him, grinning. “Okay, Drift’s been pinging me. Iorum beigno.” And then he left him with the box.

He sighed, and then put the box on the locker. So Rodimus came to his room only to give him a box? He got up and left his room locked. And… iorum beigno? When did Rodimus go to Hedonia? Why didn’t he have the report?

* * *

Someone knocked the door to his hab suite.

Ultra looked up from his desk. “Who is it?”

“It’s Megatron.” Came a muffled reply.

He grimaced. This had to be about that letter. “Enter. It’s not locked.”

The door then opened and showed the gray frame of Megatron. No Ravage, good, he thought. He was holding the datapad in his hand and showed a neutral expression.

“Please sit.”

Ultra cleared his desk, then got up to fetch some energon whilst Megatron sat down in the chair opposite of his, looking at the datapad. A few seconds later he sat back and served 2 cubes on the desk. “About that letter, yes?” he asked Megatron.

“Yes.” Megatron looked up, his face showed like he was holding something back. “Who gave it to you?”

“Tarn himself.” Ultra leaned in. “We met on Monacus, then we had… a talk.”

“He was in Monacus?” Megatron asked, surprised. “How is he?”

Ultra wanted to tell the truth, but it seemed inappropriate. Maybe later. “I’d say he’s stressed. He’s so different than the one I know well.”

“Is he still pulling himself together?”

“Hardly.” He replied. “He was overcharged when I met him.”

“Oh…” Megatron leaned back, expression unreadable. “But please tell me that he was alright.”

“He was… quite alright.” He replied, choosing his words. “He misses you quite a lot.”

* * *

Rodion was the place he wanted to visit.

Optimus walked through the street, going away from the station. A day-off was what he required as of now. Politics was over on Iacon, now they just needed time for it to stabilise and then they could run the planet. Nothing was done in a blink of an optique, anyway. He let Starscream manage it for one day, knowing that Windblade would help him.

He thought to himself, this was selfish for him to just take a day-off.

But he was here just to take a drink, maybe more, and some quietness and loneliness. And nowhere on Iacon could offer that. Still, he couldn't believe himself for returning to this city.

He saw some Cybertronians passed, maybe Neutrals, preferably Neutrals. He didn’t want to meet anyone who would bother him. A Neutral passed through him and nodded to him; he was a flyer with mainly crème and blue. He replied by nodding. He guessed it would be hard for him to have some loneliness; everyone knew him.

Things were running quite smoothly. This was closer to what he dreamt of Cybertron. A home for Cybertronian, if not undivided, then for them to live along. This was like Earth, actually, they have over 100 countries with their own politics and governments and yet they managed to get along, even if one or a few countries didn’t actually like another country or a group of. Cybertronians could manage. They only had three.

A thought of creating a flag crossed his mind.

He chuckled to himself; why would they need a flag? They already had the Autobot and Decepticon symbols. That would be enough. Soon the Neutral would have one of their own.

His steps lead him to an old abandoned building in downtown Rodion. He looked at it, remembering it. He sighed, his days as police were over. The building’s door was locked, broken. The windows were closed with some metal plank. No one was allowed to go in. He sighed and continued walking.

Finally, he arrived at Maccadam’s. He entered the building and saw a few mech inside. Huffer was there, engaging in a conversation with a mech he did not know. The menu was still the same with the last time he was here, with a few additions. He ordered a mid-grade and sat beside a large window, far from the door but easily seen from outside.

He sighed as he sat, looking at the window. The lights of the city illuminated the streets. Some Cybertronians were walking through. Some talked with another, some were alone. No one seemed to know him, or they knew he didn’t want any company, which he was thankful of.

Cybertron was slowly became a better place to live.

It could be faster if the Decepticons cooperate to share their home world. But he was thankful with the conditions now. He knew that many Cybertronians, Autobot or Decepticon or Neutral, was seeking for home in the vastness of space. Maybe they had settled in on a planet, blent in with the community, or simply enjoyed exploring the space. But they still needed a place to call home, for them to return, for them to spend the rest of their seemingly eternal life.

They were not forced, however, had they chose to be in their current place. They were free to choose where they wanted to live. Including other colonies, if they wanted.

For now, the issues among Autobots, Decepticons, and Neutrals were still needed to be solved.

“Off duty, sir?” a voice woke him up from his musings.

It was Blurr, giving him his drink. He gave a smile when he put the glass on the table.

“I am, Blurr.” He looked at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Enjoying the sight?”

“Yes. It has been a while since I was here.” Optimus opened his masque and sipped his drink.

Blurr sat on the chair in front of him. “How goes the politics?”

“It was getting better.” He looked to the window. “The colonies are agreed. The issues on Earth are solved, though it would need time to make our relationship with Earth stable. They are still struggling to clean their planet from any Cybertronian issues; that one with Onyx and Galvatron included.”

“And among the Three Factions?”

“We still need to get along. Rodimus and the Lost Light wouldn’t be coming home soon, so we need to try by ourselves.”

“Glad to hear that.” Blurr stood up and offered him a smile. “Enjoy your drink, Optimus. I do hope we all can share Cybertron peacefully.”

Optimus smiled back. “Thank you.”

After Blurr left him, he stared at the window again. So much had changed. He now was de facto the leader of Cybertron; Starscream wasn’t all happy about that. He was still invited to any official meeting anyway because de jure, he was still the leader of Cybertron. He was fine with that, as long as Starscream knew what he was doing.

But politics did change. The Three Factions needed a leader of their own. Starscream was better leading the Decepticons. And a neutral would rise as its leader.

Suddenly, a thought flashed itself on his processors. If any Decepticon returned to Cybertron, what would he do? Would he get into the Decepticons’ hands?

It depended on that Decepticon itself, perhaps. If it was a normal Decepticon, warrior class, he thought he would easily adapt as a citizen. But if it was a high-ranking one…

Galvatron died. Megatron became Autobot. Soundwave allied himself with the Decepticons who supported Optimus (he was kind of Starscream’s second now). Skywarp was living under the Decepticons. Scoop was killed. Blitzwing and Astrotrain worked as space shuttles. Thundercracker stayed on Earth. The Constructicons worked in their corresponding places, with Prowl as the head of enforcers (and he had learned his lesson from Optimus).

He would be surprised if, say, Overlord or Black Shadow suddenly came back to Cybertron to become civilian.

He wasn’t an enforcer anymore. He was now more than that.

Cybertron itself was now becoming like a regular planet, with civilians, government, work, facility, education, clinic, anything that would facilitate its population. The sacred relics were kept in a facility guarded 24/7. The industries were building again, producing energon and essential everyday necessities. The building in highly-populated urban area was towering. By ‘highly’, he meant more than a hundred mechs were living in.

For now, only a few cities were populated. Iacon, Rodion, Polyhex, Kaon.

He sighed and took a gulp from his glass. He was thinking about politic again. He shouldn’t be when his purpose here was to get away from work for a day.

Cybertron still needed a long way to go home. And someone had to lead him. Optimus didn’t know whether he was ready to be that someone.


	4. Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron replies Tarn's message.

It wasn’t hard to find where Tarn resided, Megatron thought.

He walked through the streets, ignoring the hostile looks from some creatures that saw him. He didn’t care, they didn’t know everything about him. Ultra Magnus gave him the address, and it turned out to be just across the bar where Rodimus—forcefully—took him a few months before. He looked to the sign.

After asking the receptionist, he looked for the room that it told him. 107.

He knocked the door. No answer. There seemed like no one was home, though. It was very quiet.

Megatron sighed and knocked the door again; he only had about an hour before he had to go back to _Lost Light_. Still, no reply. But he heard someone groaning.

He tried to open the door, and it opened with ease. Was Tarn home? The main room was dark. Even the floorlamp wasn’t turned on. Was he asleep?

Suddenly, he became aware that someone really was groaning. He quickly looked for the source of the sound, and found Tarn in the bed. No, he wasn’t in the bed. He was in the floor, crouching and twitching. His voice gave him pain. Tarn was losing his control over his voice!

Megatron was quick to move Tarn back to the bed. “Wake up! Wake up you!”

Tarn stirred, his optiques flickering. “M-Megatron?”

“Yes. It’s me.” Megatron stared at him with worry.

“I-I had a t- _terrible_ dream.” Tarn’s optiques wasn’t all online. They were flickering dim red as he looked into his own. “You _went_ away a-and left _us_. Y-you join _ed the_ A-Autobot…”

Megatron stared, didn’t know what to say. Tarn’s masque was off, which is good because he thought it would be broken away if it wasn’t. Tarn was still thinking it as a dream? Was he even fully online?

“I’m here, Tarn. Now you rest.”

“L-Lord Megatron? You won’t leave us, _right_?” Tarn looked at him, faceplate full of hope.

Megatron sighed, and forced a smile despite a great deal of pain and a pang of sadness that Tarn’s voice gave him. “I won’t. Now rest.”

* * *

Tarn woke up to see the pale dark white ceiling of his temporary home.

He draped a servo over his face and sighed; why did he keep having nightmares like that? Why did he always hope that he wouldn’t leave him? He had done it; he would never return.

Decepticonism as he knew it was over.

Ugh, so much to process just in a few clicks after he woke up.

He forced himself to sit on the side of the berth. Last night’s dream was very real, as if he could feel his Lord’s presence right before him. Talking to him. Telling him that he was there.

He sighed sadly. It was just a dream. Another nightmare.

But he should really seriously think about this Autobot he had been dreaming about. A heavy truck. Easy-going but quite serious. This wasn’t the only time he dreamt about him, he had countless others. Even before, ekhm, his Lord’s desertion.

Who was he? Why does he keep appearing in his dream? Even sometimes he appeared along Optimus Prime… well, though he looked different, but still red and blue, a dark green truck, and an empurata victim? There were few others, but he had less dream about them.

And that Autobot was very close to the dark green truck.

He stood up and walked off the bedroom, sighing as he closed the door.

After turning on the lamps and took himself a cube of energon, he sat on the sofa and turned on the broadcast receiver. As usual, nothing was interesting. He forced himself to watch when he realised there was a datapad next to the receiver. He raised an optical ridge and picked it up. He didn’t remember putting some datapad there.

When he read it, his spark was practically stopped. It was the same datapad that he gave to Ultra Magnus a few jours ago, but it had replies.

 _“I am terribly sorry that I had to leave you, but it was by all means for the better Cybertron. The cause we were fighting in its name is a corrupt one. And I, as your leader and the most convicted one, have the burden to take responsibility of it. There shall be no attempts of rescue. There shall be no any_ coup d’état _of the Decepticon ranks. Because as of now, there exists nothing of Decepticonism.”_

Tarn twitched as he read it. Now it was clear that his Lord had also abandoned him. _Him_. His most loyal follower. His most loyal troop ever existed. And now, to whom should he lie his loyalty?

_“But there is a way for any Decepticon to try for another future. We of course would never be able to take Cybertron of our own, however, we could live alongside the Autobots. While they shall definitely ask for responsibility, it is a thing that you shall provide. The war is over, and, thankfully, we lost. And we must face our fate as the prisoner of war. If not by the body, then by the spirit.”_

The already gloomy room suddenly felt gloomier than it was before. Tarn felt unsteady as he went weak on his knees. His vents hitched. His spark rippled unsteadily in his chest. He didn’t know whether he should be thankful or angry. All the emotion he had kept far inside himself then came. A wash of sickness filled his tanks. The things he had been trying to manage were now out of reach, floating freely above his mind, making him sick and unable to handle himself. He sat on the sofa, crouched as he felt the world around him crumbled, leaving him alone in the darkness. No one to hold onto, no one to help, only a sliver of servo available for him to reach. His servos held his faceplate as he unconsciously started to cry.

 _“But I offer you a chance to amend your life. Join me on the Autobot ship_ Lost Light _, and you would leave anything behind. You shall start a new life whilst fixing the things you have done wrong in the previous one. For the past shall always find its way to the present. –Megatron.”_


	5. Garden Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarn asks to go to the _Lost Light_.

The _Lost Light_ , he remembered…

Wasn’t it the ship that his team had destroyed a year ago?

He didn’t remember that there was any survivor. He had killed all mechs on board the ship, just like he always did.

Brainstorm had told him that there was a chance for him to clear a name from the List, then they had gone there, and they had killed everyone. Though he didn’t say that they were going to kill everyone, but he had seen Deadlock, or Drift, on board.

And there were numerous Autobots on board. Why wouldn’t they take a chance?

However, why was Megatron there now? How could he be? To reconstruct a ship that big would take a few years.

But more importantly, would its passengers allow him to roam the ship?

* * *

Megatron was sitting on his captain’s chair on the bridge, listening to Blaster’s happy reports of the ship and communication. So far, everything was running smoothly. Rodimus was in his room, which he thankful for, so he wouldn’t disturb him doing ‘actual’ work.

Actually, he was kind of distracted by the fact that he invited Tarn aboard. Tarn was one Decepticon to be feared of, well… he was also before. Oh and the fact that Tarn had once led his DJD and killed its inhabitants and destroyed the ship.

Ultra Magnus had been surprised, then angry, then sighed when he told him his means. Tarn now wasn’t like Tarn before, but he had worries. Almost everyone on the ship wouldn’t welcome him, much less its captain. And then there’s some Autobots there who hated Decepticons. Don’t like them. Rodimus had disagree with him, then ran out of the room, telling him angrily that he didn’t care whether he brought the ex-DJD leader or not (it wasn’t his business, he thought, it was Megs and Tarn’s business).

He twitched when he received a commlink call, and sat up straight from his relaxed pose on the chair when he knew who the caller was.

“What’s it, big M?” Blaster asked him, worry in his face.

He vented deep, trying not to show his surprise. “No. Nothing.”

“Oh, well, ‘cuz you’ve just kinda jumped from that chair.”

“I…” he sighed. “Excuse me for a moment.” He stood up and walked from the bridge, ignoring Blaster’s confused look.

The hallway was quiet, fortunately. No one would see him whilst he answered the call, which he was sure he’d like kind of worried. [Yes?]

[My Lord…] Came Tarn’s voice, fiddled with static. [A-are you sure to allow me to come to the Autobot ship?]

[I am, Tarn.]

[Won’t the Autobots deny me?]

[They will, I know.] He sighed. [But you have to give them a chance. Of course some of them would even try to kill you, but it was a price to pay.]

Silence.

[Think of it as the beginning of your punishment.] he added.

Tarn didn’t exactly reply; only static came. But then he replied. [My Lord?]

[Yes, Tarn?]

[…will you be punishing me too? I have failed you far more than I think you’d tolerate?]

He grimaced, knowing that sooner or later, this question would come. [The fact is, I won’t. But let the Autobots decide it for you.]

Static followed, then came a reply. [Thank you, my Lord.]

[Tarn?]

[I am here.] his tone shakened. Uncertain.

[Will you be joining me?]

[I-I…] silence. [I would need time.] silence again. [Thank you, my Lord, for your time. Pardon me if I called in a wrong situation.] Tarn, polite as ever, ended the conversation.

[It’s fine, Tarn. You’re dismissed.] Megatron let his voice of authority, which long he had not used, be spoken to his once subordinate. It pained him greatly to know that a mere sentence of him leaving the Decepticon and joining the Autobot had made his most loyal follower got lost on his knees. There would still be few Decepticons who found their own new life, but many others would also be striking him, waiting for the right time to snap his spark out of his casing.

‘May Primus have mercy on your spark, little ex-Autobot…’

* * *

Calling his master had taken him every willpower left in his frame.

He slumped on the sofa, the room as gloomy as ever since he stayed here. The other DJD members weren’t there to calm him. Kaon wasn’t there to rub his foot. Vos wasn’t there to whisper calming tones. Tesarus and Helex wasn’t there to support his frame.

He draped a servo over his face, as if the masque itself wasn’t enough to cover himself from the world. He now had nothing to lose, nothing to gain. He was completely alone. And he would embrace anyone who would give him a path to walk upon.

Oh and he could talk to someone about this weird dream that he had been getting so often. These… Autobots who appeared in his dream… he didn’t know them. Not that he knew most of his Autobot victims. But why was he kept on seeing this police guy who looked like Optimus Prime? Was this all his life before that he didn’t remember anything about it?

Maybe Megatron would have some knowledge about it. He, afterall, was the one who gave him a new life. Surely he could tell him.

For now, he let himself to relax a bit and watch the TV, though he didn’t really catch whatever was showing.


End file.
